Bright Side
by KatMeister
Summary: "If there is a "future" Luke, and if Layton is truly as smart as the papers claim, then he should expect to see a "future" Flora, shouldn't he?" The story of Ophelia Dove. Unwound Future Canon. Not Clive/OC


Bright Side

Chapter 01: The Decision

* * *

"You can't keep doing this. Look at yourself, brother! Really, _really_ look at all this is accomplishing. When was the last time you slept? When was the last time you thought about something other than- than _that?_"

Ophelia Dove felt her breath come out in huffs, her face grow warm, and her fists clench. She had had _enough_. Never in her life had she been so upset and frustrated and downright _rattled_ with concern. Her words, she hoped, would have some impact; that they would pull her only remaining family out of the dangerous downward spiral he was already upon.

They managed to stop him, briefly, before he turned on her, face livid.

"This is my life, Ophelia! I need this- they all need to pay for what they did, not just to me, but everyone lost in that fire! They all deserve what's coming to them, and I can't- no, I _won't_ stop now," Clive Dove, next heir to the Dove fortune, estate, and all associated revenues, said in a harsh voice, making Ophelia step back.

"Just stay out of it."

Ophelia filched but refused to relent. "And then what? What will you do after all this is accomplished? You're letting this revenge consume your life and I-I just…I won't…" Tears tickled the side of her eyes. "I don't want to loose you. This…this will hurt people. You'll be taken away and I…"

Clive looked away, but it was obvious from his stance that he wasn't going to budge on the issue. How many times had she tried to convince him without avail? How many times had they argued, tensions rising, hairs splitting, words straining their relationship to its breaking point? Things were more delicate than ever, but Ophelia wouldn't stand for it any longer. He was her only family, and he was willing to throw himself into absolute madness.

She knew she could never truly understand what tormented him. They had been adopted from separate orphanages. They weren't related through blood. She had not lost her family like he had. She had simply never known them; but Clive had, and had watched his _burn_ before him, helplessly. His thirst for revenge had sated when their joint mother took him in, but then she died; and he had become…_obsessed_, though the word was not strong enough to describe how he changed.

Ophelia hastily wiped any tears on her sleeve and surged toward him, grasping him by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes, pleading for him to listen.

"It's not too late. You can send those people back and let the scientists go- you don't have to do anything," she was practically begging. "But if you- if you…_kidnap_ the prime minister-"

"_It's what he deserves!_ He's a _murderer_, Ophelia!" Clive roared back, shaking her hands off and stepping toward her.

Something in Ophelia snapped. "If you go through with this, you'll be just like him!"

"_What?_"

Ophelia knew she'd crossed a line. "I- no, Clive, please just-"

"Shut up. Just shut up," he shook his head, shoulders trembling. "You don't know anything. I'm doing this, and I don't need you there. I don't need your approval. _Stay out of it._"

And he turned away, leaving the room without so much as another word, or even a glance.

That was a week ago.

Not a day after their argument, prime minster Bill Hawks mysteriously disappeared after a malfunctioning time machine demonstration. It was then that Ophelia knew she had to act; that words weren't going to solve this problem- and knew there was no other way than to abide by Clive's rules. She would save her brother, whether he wanted to be rescued or not. And if that meant playing along in his "future" London, she would.

And for once, she was grateful for her uncanny aged resemblance to a certain orphaned child millionaire, who had been recently adopted by a certain top hat-wearing professor. She would save her brother, but she couldn't do it alone. She'd need the assistance of that certain professor, but not as Ophelia Dove.

She would guide the puzzle fanatic along as Flora Reinhold, and she hoped, through some miracle, she could play the part and save her only family from making the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

She pulled her chocolate hair into a low braid, flourishing it with a red ribbon. Her red dress was simple, but elegant, her black leggings and shoes matching the gown nicely. For added measure, she wrapped a white scarf around her neck.

When Ophelia Dove approached the clock shop, she hoped to high heavens the disguise would work.

The scarf was a necessity. The papers had been all over the mystery of the "golden apple." Obviously, Ophelia could not fake a birthmark, so she had to cover herself and hope the professor would not notice. She also learned plenty about the girl, Flora, as she could. The girl was polite, wide-eyed, and terrible at cooking. She was also somewhat brash in her need to be included, and cared for both the professor and his apprentice dearly. Ophelia could only cross her fingers that she would not break character, no matter what. She couldn't. She needed to rescue Clive, and quickest way was through Layton. She knew, deep down, that Layton had a chance of getting through to him in a way she never could. And to get his help, she would need his trust as quickly as possible- what better way than as his adopted daughter? Besides, if there was a "future" Luke, and if Layton was truly was smart as the papers claimed, he would expect to see a "future" Flora. Now, what "future" Luke was going to do when he saw her there…

Ophelia shook her head. She only hoped Clive wouldn't dare break the façade just to get rid of her- Layton would leave, and Clive would be arrested, no doubt.

The strange mechanism on the clock shop door made her pause- then she smiled softly. A puzzle. It was always puzzles. Solving the thing was relatively easy and she softly entered the shop, to be greeted by the sounds of a hundred ticking, chiming, and ringing clocks. Mrs. Spring was on her almost immediately, materializing from a back room.

"Lady Ophelia," She sputtered, no doubt surprised. "What are you-? Why are you dressed like-?"

"I'm here for my brother, Mrs. String. I need to go down."

Mrs. String's eyes widened, and she was silent for a long moment. Then she spoke. "What do you plan to do?"

Ophelia sighed. "I…I don't have a real plan. But I'm not going to sit at the manor quietly while he does _this_. It's already dragged on long enough."

Mrs. Spring seemed to consider something before replying. "That professor is going to be here very soon, dear. Clive left this morning, to get things ready."

"Will you take me down? I know you're doing this for my brother, but I only want what's-"

"Best. I know, dear. I know. So do we," she was talking about her husband. The pair were all that was left of the original serving staff from before Constance Dove died, and were both fiercely loyal to the remaining heirs. They were almost the pair's grandparents, in a way. "We both hoped this Layton fellow would do the trick, but if you want to go down as well, I won't stop you. He's your brother. Just…be careful, Ophelia. It's not safe."

"I know," Ophelia nodded, then pulled the old woman into a hug. "As you can see, I'm not dressed like my normal self."

"In disguise as well?" Mrs. Spring almost chuckled.

"Layton has an adopted daughter named Flora. It's as good a guise as any." Ophelia sighed. "I want to help. But if I go as myself, he won't trust like I need him to. I'll figure something out once I get down there. I…I'll help Layton along when I can- maybe explain this mess once I know I can trust him- I can try-"

"Shh, dear." Mrs. Spring held a finger to the fretting girl's lips. She was so tall. Almost twenty and towering over the older woman, Mrs. Spring smiled sadly.

"I know you'll do what's best. Come on, I'll send you down."

* * *

**(A/N): Any feedback at all would be appreciated. Please review and tell me what you think. **


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